


Messy Situations

by Aggression



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Painplay, Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wound Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aggression/pseuds/Aggression
Summary: Shockwave has almost completed his escape from Autobot captivity. It's a horrible time for his heat cycle to commence.





	Messy Situations

He rushed into the hotel room, just barely thinking to make sure the window was shuttered before he fell out of his newest disguise. 

He was _almost_ in the clear. Shockwave was supposed to be getting on a commercial transport tomorrow that would take him out of Autobot controlled space. He needed to be able to hold his disguise to get on that ship though, and Primus be damned that he would gain the one condition that prevented him from doing so. 

Longarm Prime, like any member of Cybertron’s Intelligence Agency, had been on a strict medical watch that involved regular coding adjustments so that he would not enter his heat cycle. They were suppose to do the same for prisoners, but that had not been high on the Autobot’s priority list. 

For all of his planning and work everything had gone to Pit, and Shockwave had been captured a little before Longarm Prime would have been due for his next coding adjustment. He had been hoping that his frame would hold off long enough so that he could hole up in some back corner of space and suffer alone, but his bodily cycles had decided otherwise.

He had scrounged up energon for two solar cycles, but he would have to venture out after that for more. If he left right after a good overload, Shockwave believed he would be able to maintain his disguise for a long enough period to purchase more rations.

The heat coding wanted to force him back to his true form. To spark while disguised could lead to complications, and heat coding would not allow for such a risk. Shockwave was not the average simple minded fool; he would be able to master himself long enough to get fuel.

* * *

 

Blurr didn’t count himself as a religious bot, but recent events were trying to force him into some form of belief. He didn’t know what he had done to frag off some force in the universe, but he must have angered some higher power with how his luck had been lately. 

He was supposed to be doing a simple intel gathering mission to ease himself back into work. Some of Lockdown’s regular contacts operated in this system, and he was to check tabs on them and see if Lockdown had been in the area recently.

Ilsa was a scummy port planetoid with heavy traffic and little policing. Technically, the mecha here followed Autobot law, but were not underneath full Autobot control. The community allied itself with their central government to get the allowance of trade relations and nothing more.

It was supposed to be a simple in and out mission. Blurr was cleared for work, but he still could not maintain his top speeds for a length of time and to a form of control that he found acceptable, and his frame still ached daily. It reminded him that it was a miracle he was alive.

That was the only good luck he had had lately. The message in his inbox was just another example of the universe fragging him over.

_“Shockwave has escaped Trypitcon Prison. If any relevant information or traces of his whereabouts are found, all agents are to report back IMMEDIATELY.”_

Blurr contemplated. Technically, his mission parameters had not changed, and that was either a deliberate choice, or an oversight. He was justifiably unsuitable to track down Shockwave, since even he could recognize that the situation had a high probability of emotionally compromising him.

But, he was currently on the edge of Autobot space, at the one of the ports most notorious for illegal trade and trafficking. The odds were good that Shockwave would pass through Ilsa.

He looked over the intel that he had already gathered, which was stored away in his processor’s hard drives. More was still needed, but he would soon have an acceptable amount collected for his report. He could at least allow for one cycle of Decepticon hunting, and would keep an audial open while doing his work.  

He glanced at his plating. He had dulled his paint, nicked his tires, and scuffed himself up around his transformation seams, giving himself a moderately unkempt appearance. He deleted the message, subspacing the transponder he was allowed for brief communications.

He left the hotel he was staying in, stepping out onto the streets and into the crowd, no one giving a glance his way.

* * *

 

Shockwave cycled air through his vents, but it did nothing to ease his systems. 

Ilsa’s atmosphere was smoggy and humid, and the crowd moving around him kicked dust and grit into the air. There was no relief in cycling his vents; the air barely did anything to help cool down his internal mechanisms. His own plating felt uncomfortable on top of his protoform. He fought down his restlessness and agitation. He did not allow bodily functions and resulting emotional responses to rule his processor, and he would most certainly ignore the ache of want in his valve.

Mecha shifted around him, one slight reprieve. He had overloaded before leaving the hotel, but self-service did not truly counteract a heat cycle, and he was evidently projecting that status to the crowd around him. It was cultural habit not to touch mecha in a heat cycle unless invited. It was uncomfortable for others to be around him anyways. The fluctuations in a bot’s EM field and aromas caused by a slight change in fuel processing caused arousal in mecha around the bot in heat. Bots in heat generally stayed out of public for the benefit of everyone.

There were still scum who would try to take advantage of afflicted mecha, but not in plain sight of others. Not to mention Shockwave’s current disguise was on the larger side for Autobots, and that was somewhat of a deterrent for others. His plating was currently a dull red-brown, streaked in dirt. He gave it hints of a truck altmode. An unseemly crack ran through one of his square shoulder pauldrons. He appeared in an almost decrepit state, but the disguise’s claws were obviously wicked sharp and well maintained.

Roughhouse could be hired as a grunt, among other things. He would need to be, as Shockwave would have to spend the credits that were supposed to get him out of this port on energon instead. Not even his personally written energy conversion protocols could overwrite the directions of the heat cycle, and his aroused state would force him through energy faster than he liked.

He entered an energon dispensary. It would be more expensive than simple oils and other fuels,  but heat cycles were taxing; pure energon would be best for his systems.

_“It is the logical choice_ ,” he told himself to avoid too much annoyance over the fact that he was going to get ripped off to purchase it.

He had to wait; the proprietor was arguing with another mech over prices. Shockwave ran through calculations and scenarios in his processor.

He ran through the odds of Autobot Intelligence looking for him here. It was almost guaranteed, but Shockwave would be fine. No one had seen Shockwave himself, and Roughhouse was not even keeping the hotel room underneath his own name. He could outwit the agents sent this way.

His processor began to calculation the possible length of his heat cycle, but he stalled that line of thought. He did not need to think about how long he would be wanting to force someone down and ride their spike until -

Another mech entered, and Shockwave was too caught up reorganizing his thoughts to force the imperatives of the heat coding back down. A recognizable EM field brushed against his own, and deep-seeded coding had him flare out his own briefly in return. It was the first bot he had been around since the beginning of his heat cycle that he was “comfortable” around in some fashion, and the coding latched onto that.

Cybertronian EM fields were unique to each bot. As Shockwave had experimented with his natural shapeshifting capabilities, he had found a way to use his own gifts coupled with old spark readings of other bots to create artificial EM fields to use with his disguises.

In his lapse of concentration, it had been Shockwave’s EM field that had reached out instead of Roughhouse’s.

Agent Blurr had only briefly felt Shockwave’s true EM field, but evidently by the surprise and then fury registering on the mech’s face in front of him, it had been enough to memorize it. Shockwave’s processor ran the calculations of the slim odds that allowed the blue mech to survive as he consider his options for getting out of this situation.

Instead, the heat coding reared its head, analyzing Blurr’s acceptability as a prospective mate. A slight vocalizer glitch, but his unmatched speed easily made up for that. He wasn’t small for an Autobot, and despite his current appearance his plating was normally well maintained and cared for, with no inherent complications with metal integration onto his protoform. He was dedicated and loyal with a strong work ethic.

Shockwave wondered if that would be enough to halt Blurr, or if the blue bot would try and get his revenge for almost being killed here and now.

The shop owner and his other customer were still arguing. Blurr was in between him and the main entrance, and he would have to hop the counter and push aside the owner to reach the door which led to the backrooms. Blurr would beat him to either.

The Autobot walked up to him, slowly, and Shockwave stilled as he watched Blurr. “Don’t you dare move. Don’t try to leave and I won’t cuff you yet.” Blurr was whispering, words rushing out of his vocalizer in a tumble. “Give me a moment to get energon for the both of us and we’ll get you somewhere where you won’t cause a panic.”

“Why is that a worry?”

Blurr sneered. “You’re plating is shaking, and your servos are trying to run through transformation sequences even though you’re stopping them. I don’t need a _Decepticon_ ,” he spat out the word, “in heat suddenly appearing in public. With how many spaceports your kind has ravaged recently you would be a target for somebot’s misplaced revenge. And really, I don’t need you shooting up this place while trying to get out either.”

Shockwave elected to not point out that Blurr’s own servos were also shaking, but the agent had always responded to extreme stress situations by his body priming him for high energy usage.  

The enraged customer rushed past them, and Blurr didn’t wait for a response from Shockwave before making his way to the counter. The proprietor must have been expecting him, as he was already gathering cubes for Blurr. It took a racer only a moment to purchase more, and he subspaced his own supply before handing Shockwave his cubes to do the same.

Blurr placed a servo on Shockwave’s back, and the Decepticon steeled himself as to not shudder. The servo tickled his over sensitive plating, warm and heavy and Shockwave could feel every twitch of energy that raced through Blurr. The agent was nervous.

The agent also retained control, at the moment. Blurr’s servo slid down to the seam between his back plating and his pelvic span. If his weapon allocation had remained the same then all the mech would have to do was activate his arm blades to send one straight into Shockwave’s spinal column. That thought at least cooled the trail of heat that had been left along his plating.

“You must have some place you’re staying so lead the way.”

Shockwave inclined his helm. Roughhouse’s amber optics narrowed in annoyance as he began to lead them through the streets.  

Again, others gave Shockwave space as he waded through the crowds. They gave space for both him and Blurr to move freely, and so they reached the hotel far sooner than Shockwave would have preferred.

The owner did not give the pair a second glance as they entered. Shockwave led Blurr down the hallway. He had requested a room on the main floor just in case he wanted to sneak through the window. His stretch capabilities made it so he was capable of escaping higher stories, but staying on the main floor saved time.

It also meant it was a quick trip to his room with no chance to get rid of Blurr.

The door slid shut. Shockwave was quick to transform, the disguise giving him no advantage in privacy. He hoped to catch Blurr’s servo in the sequence and wretch it off (it was thin, dexterous plating after all) but the Autobot’s reflexes were as fast as his driving speed.

The Autobot’s servo moved away from his back and barely a moment later Shockwave felt pain flare high in his left thigh. He had been turning to face Blurr and, unfortunately, completed the motion. Shockwave couldn’t fight off a full body shudder as the retractable blade managed to bite down to his protoform.

Instinctively, he began to curl forward. The agent, instead of dancing away from him, lept towards him, and Shockwave did not have the chance to react before Blurr’s other arm blade was buried in his right shoulder pauldron.

The room was small enough, and Blurr’s speed made him attack with enough force, that Shockwave stumbled backwards onto the berth. Blurr landed on top of him, straddling his chassis. His left blade was still buried in Shockwave’s treads; the agent’s right servo had a vice-like grip on his neck cabling.

To Shockwave’s utter embarrassment his engine revved, _hard._  Blurr’s optics went comically wide.

“You’re fragging kidding me.”

“I am in a heat cycle.”

“Slag that that doesn’t matter your heat cycle coding is strong but you should still be in enough pain that that should be the only thing on your processor.”

“Evidently, it is not.”

Blurr continued to look astounded. Shockwave ran the transformation sequence that opened his intake, which was located at the base of his neck in place of his lacking mouth. Blurr’s servo drew back to avoid being caught up in the sequence as Shockwave grabbed him, throwing him to the berth to reverse their positions.

One servo held Blurr’s arms above his head, the other, to mirror the agent’s own actions, was wrapped around the Autobot’s neck. Shockwave had a notable amount of weight on the Autobot. Shockwave shifted his mass, leaning forward onto Blurr’s neck, watching as the other tried to buck him off.

He relented after a moment. Shockwave’s pelvic plating was above Blurr’s own. Shockwave gave into his coding, rolling his hips as he held the other down. There was a burn in his injured thigh, and he could feel energon running down his treads, but to him it only added to the sensation.

The agent had yet to say anything, but when Shockwave felt Blurr’s hips move to meet his own he retracted his plating and bared his valve, grounding down harder on the other. Anticipation shot through his lines.

He put weight back onto Blurr’s neck, not enough to cut off the flow of energon to his processor, just enough that Blurr’s optics narrowed at the pressure. “You’re going to help me with my problem.”

Shockwave could not guess what was running through Blurr’s processor. The Autobot continued to glare at him, body wiggling again. It made Shockwave aware of the lubricant that had leaked out between the two of them.

“We’re going to do this my way then and no other. You can’t expect me to trust the mech who put me through a compactor and then had me thrown out like trash. You're lucky I'm stupid enough to do this. Let go of me and put both of your servos behind your back slowly.”

Shockwave hesitated. Blurr’s expression had neutralized, the other simply watching him. The Autobot was slowly grinding his panel against Shockwave’s valve with what little room he had.

Then Blurr smirked, and Shockwave realized he had lost as he whined. Blurr had retracted his spike covering, and the Decepticon could feel the tip of it rubbing against his lips as it began to emerge.

His engine revved again, loud in the small room. As Shockwave moved his servos behind himself, Blurr moved to sit up. Shockwave shifted so Blurr could free his legs. The agent’s own servos rested on Shockwave’s hips as they kneeled in front of each other on the berth.  

One servo slid down a thigh, ghosting above Shockwave’s stab wound before grabbing it. Shockwave felt no embarrassment as his engine revved again because by the expression on Blurr’s faceplates, he was at least congruently enjoying the action of causing Shockwave’s pain.

Blurr reached up with his other servo, grabbing Shockwave’s right antler at this base, pulling Shockwave down. He was forced to curl around Blurr as the agent continued to rub his spike against his valve, coaxing the organ out. His valve throbbed as Blurr panted directly into his audial.

“Lie back down on the berth.”

Shockwave again complied, lying down on his back, his legs splayed and his knees in the air as his pedes rested on the bed. Blurr settled between Shockwave’s thighs, digits from his non-energon covered servo lightly rubbing up and down Shockwave’s valve. “Okay, okay I’m up on all of my inhibitors and I’m going to assume you’re not since your updates slipped up enough that you’re in a heat cycle but ground rule is if you can’t control yourself and open your spark chamber I can’t guarantee I’m not going to immediately put a knife through it.”

Again, Shockwave was rolling his hips, not phased even with Blurr’s threat. His optic shuddered as Blurr slipped a digit inside. “Wouldn’t a good Autobot take me in?”

Blurr’s thumb pressed down hard on Shockwave’s anterior node, causing the Decepticon to buck. Shockwave whined as Blurr’s bloodied servo again grabbed at his stab wound. It seemed to throb in time to the need in his valve, the wound in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. “Let me reiterate that you _put me through a trash compactor_ and then you left me for dead _._ I might be willing to frag you through the berth, which is a notion I do not want to analyze at the moment, but I also want to throw you in a compactor in return. Stabbing you might not be the same thing, and really, a stab straight through your spark would be too easy of a death that you don't deserve, but the end result would be the same so don’t tempt me.”

Shockwave wanted to reach down, grab Blurr’s hips, and just force that spike inside himself already. Instead, he flexed his servos, looking Blurr in his optics as he spoke. “Why are you helping me then?”

Blurr scowled, switching from fingering Shockwave with one digit straight to three. In reality, it was not much of a stretch for Shockwave as his valve wouldn't cycle down in size until an actual spike was inside of it. His venting stuttered as Blurr pressed against a cluster of sensor nodes.

“I already said we’re not talking about that. We could also ask ‘why do you want my help?’ I have no doubt that your plan was to wait this out before leaving here and, now, if I put you in strong enough stasis cuffs it would force you to have to wait out your heat. You could have tried to kill me again, or at least incapacitate me before leaving. Instead, you decided to hold me down on a berth and grind against me.”

Lubricant spilled thick and fast from Shockwave now, and his hips didn’t hesitate in their writhing, even as Blurr pushed ahead and slipped his whole servo into Shockwave’s valve. Finally, Shockwave was beginning to feel full, but _that didn’t matter._  He was desperate for Blurr’s spike inside of him; the heat wouldn’t begin to calm without it.

“Blurr, _please_.” Shockwave whined, impatient and needy, and he would have died on the spot if any other Decepticon had heard him begging as he just did.

“You keep your spark casing closed. I frag you until you can’t move and you’re the most useless, sated pile of metal I’ve ever seen. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

Blurr smirked. His servo slipped out of Shockwave’s valve easily with a gush of lubricant. The servo that had been in Shockwave’s valve came to rest on Shockwave’s hip a moment before the racer’s spike was in him in one quick thrust.

Shockwave barely registered as his valve cycled down to the size where he could be properly stimulated by an Autobot’s spike. Blurr had instantaneously thrust a digit into Shockwave’s stab wound the moment he spiked Shockwave. The Decepticon’s world was a hazy mix of pain and pleasure, and one roll of Blurr hips sent him through his first overload.

Energy crackled over Shockwave’s plating and Blurr let out a breathy moan as it traveled over him. Shockwave’s heat flared, and his claws scraped against the berth. The berth’s metal screeched as Blurr removed the digit from his wound. True pain flashed through Shockwave’s thigh momentarily, and the lust of the heat coding overwrote it, calling him to ignore it in favour of the feeling of Blurr fragging him.

Fragging him far too slow. Blurr’s expression was smug, and Shockwave resisted the urge to call out the Autobot that this had to be the only time in his life he was doing something slow as the racer set a languid pace. Blurr reached forward and wiped Shockwave’s energon off from his servo onto the Decepticon’s abdominal plating.  

It did feel good. Each thrust was working to sate the heat coding, but in Shockwave’s opinion it wasn’t fast enough. He had been waiting so long and he wanted more. He expected more. He hated his needy thoughts but he knew actually how fast Blurr was. One of his past times while trapped as Longarm Prime had been to observe Blurr - the spectacular piece of machinery with speed unmatched by any other grounder.

Even after he had cubed Blurr, Shockwave had been studying him. He had past time by running calculations, trying to decide how fast Blurr had gone to defy physics and literally _run across space_. His engine revved at the thought of that speed being used to pound his valve.

He could never live if down if anyone knew, but in that moment Shockwave decided he wanted to walk about of here with a limp, the fact that it would be caused by a little Autobot be damned.

“Blurr, faster.”

“Who says you get to set the pace? Don’t you know Shockwave? There’s thought that goes into things like racing. You gotta use your speed the right way you can’t go full out too early.”

“There’s a difference between pacing yourself and metaphorically jogging. This isn’t even a jog for you.”

Blurr smirked and stilled.

Shockwave rolled his hips. Even with an injured leg, Blurr could not do anything to prevent Shockwave from moving if the Decepticon decided that he wanted to throw his weight around. Shockwave took what pleasure Blurr would let him take. The Autobot could have moved back, taken away the spike Shockwave was currently desperate for. Instead, Blurr watched intently, resting his body weight on Shockwave’s abdomen as Shockwave fragged himself on his spike.

“See now you’re even enjoying yourself without me doing any work.”   

“I would not say no to some effort on your part.”

The interface continued like this for a time longer. Blurr was oddly silently, watching Shockwave as he pleasured himself on his body. The Autobot has one of his servos on Shockwave’s hip joint, lightly rubbing circles into the seams of Shockwave’s plating. It was so soft when compared to the fact that Blurr had shoved those same digits into Shockwave’s stab wound earlier. Shockwave’s arousal spiked at the memory of the pain, sending him into his second overload.

Shockwave could not even begin to guess what was going through Blurr’s mind. There had always an element of quiet contemplation to the bot despite the fact that his voice was one that was fast and careening in speech, loud and carrying in cadence.

Blurr didn’t say anything, but Shockwave knew immediately when the Autobot had come to some sort of decision within his processor. Blurr shifted, readjusting his grip on Shockwave’s hips, and began to frag Shockwave in earnest.

Sensation existed on a borderline somewhere between pure pain and a continuous bliss that was just the right side of too much. Shockwave did not have a chance to think. He only felt the pistoning of Blurr’s spike in and out of his valve. He heard the hiss that left Blurr’s intake as his thighs squeezed the bot, pulling the other closer into his body.

Shockwave threw his helm back onto the berth, optic offlining. His claws screeched as they dug into the berth’s metal, shearing a warming blanket that had been provided by the hotel. His vocalizers spit static as he overloaded for a third time.

He reached outwards Blurr momentarily; the heat coding roared in his processor. Shockwave’s servo twitched once, twice, and the warframe slapped his own claws against his chestplates.

They dug into the metal.  _It hurt._  A hurt different from the pain he had enjoyed from Blurr, different from the pain currently warming his abused valve. Blurr had overloaded with him that time, but Shockwave’s heat was still heavily projecting, and so Blurr’s hard spike remained within Shockwave while setting a now-lackadaisical pace. Shockwave’s claws caused him a pain that was a stark reminder as he clenched his own chestplates closed with them.

Blurr’s optics bore first into his claws, and then into Shockwave’s own optic. An icy-blue warning.

Shockwave drew his own energon, pink and damning as it beaded on his chestplating once he removed his claws.

The slow pace continued. Shockwave’s engines purred as he cycled down his optic, rolling his hips to match Blurr’s thrusts. Shockwave’s actions had seemed to cool Blurr’s eager excitement, but not his arousal. Shockwave resolutely ignored his actions, and lost himself in the feeling of interfacing.

The desperate whirling of his spark did not matter. It tipped into other overload as Blurr came inside of him, body sinking into the berth with satisfaction.

* * *

 

There was a reason heat coding was medically suppressed for members of the Elite Guard and any other government jobs and services. Reasons for why most of the general populace also practiced such routine medical care. 

It was never just one quick round of interfacing. No. The coding knew it needed time, multiple tries, and the element of spark merging to actually enact ensparking within the mecha it affected.

Shockwave’s coding had relaxed, but the programs had not yet shut down. Blurr relaxed also, observing Shockwave as he visibly released tension and sunk into the berth, and enjoying his own release as the rut heat coding enacted in a partner calmed within his own processor.

Blurr shouted a clipped “Hey!” as Shockwave grabbed him. The Decepticon was already slipping into a recharge cycle, and Blurr assumed it was the heat influencing Shockwave’s actions. He imagined it was extremely out of character for Shockwave to grab an Autobot berth partner to pull them in close to _cuddle._

That’s what this was, as Shockwave enveloped Blurr in his arms, not crushing him with his mass and weight, but leaving Blurr comfortably trapped between Shockwave and the berth. The Decepticon’s optic was offline, his vents already slow in their cycling. The heat had calmed, but Shockwave’s scent still hung in the air, and slowly drifted up from his inner mechanisms. Blurr’s own processor was telling him he wasn’t done with his job yet. That this mech still needed to be further fragged in to the berth, later, until he was filled to the brim and carrying his progeny.

Blurr sighed, shaking his head. Recharge pulled at his own thoughts, and the space between Shockwave and the berth was warm. He shuttered his optics. He would deal with everything after recharge. Maybe Shockwave would resist going another round, but with the coding partially sated, Blurr doubted that Shockwave wouldn’t one to go again. It would take multiple sessions before the coding finally decided it was not worth pushing Shockwave’s body any farther to try and get him to carry.

Blurr knew when this was all over and done with the resolution was going to be messy in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> Well! I'm glad this is finally done and posted! It's been sitting in my files for forever. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider [reblogging the post for it on tumblr!](http://aggressionfic.tumblr.com/post/173982114962/messy-situations-aggression-transformers-all)
> 
> Also! Feel free to say hi there!


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